<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>til you find what you’re bleeding for by GlassesOfJustice</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518257">til you find what you’re bleeding for</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/pseuds/GlassesOfJustice'>GlassesOfJustice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Discovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Missing Scene, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Spanking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 05:01:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/pseuds/GlassesOfJustice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene set during episode 2x10 <em>The Red Angel</em> wherein Katrina offers Michael an outlet for her grief and a fresh start.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Burnham/Katrina Cornwell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ladies Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>til you find what you’re bleeding for</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/gifts">Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Cleo, thanks for this idea and most importantly for taking this IKEA fic and turning it into an actual thing. Also, thanks for the inspo re: the whisper of Kat/Mirror Georgiou. </p><p>♥ Katrina always. ♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kat looked up from her desk when she heard her door whoosh open. Michael strode through, head held high, and Kat stood in greeting. Before Michael spoke, she visibly unclenched her jaw.</p><p>“Admiral.”</p><p>“Commander Burnham, thank you for coming. I wish it was under better circumstances.”</p><p>Michael acknowledged her with the slightest tilt of her chin.</p><p>“Sit.”</p><p>Kat waited until Michael was seated across from her before taking her own seat again. Michael looked so small in the wide black leather chairs. It wasn’t the decor she would have picked, but it made do. Everything had to make do. </p><p>“Forgive me, Sir, but why am I here?”</p><p>“That was a hard mission.” Kat leaned forward, appraising Michael carefully. She tried to glean something about Michael’s mental state. She knew from working with Sarek that it wouldn’t be easy. But the woman in front of her looked shaken, wrung out.</p><p>Maybe she wouldn’t have to push as hard as she thought.</p><p>“In my report—“</p><p>“I read your report.”</p><p>“Then you know, Commander Nhan and I lost a fellow officer.”</p><p>“We attended the same funeral, Commander.”</p><p>Kat leaned back in her chair, changing her posture from an aggressive one to a passive one. </p><p>“You disobeyed a direct order, Commander.” Katrina’s face was impassive, but she quirked her eyebrow, goading Michael.</p><p>“There must have been another way. Airiam didn’t deserve that.” Michael offered, voice rising. She closed her mouth, collecting herself, and didn’t continue.</p><p>Kat crossed her arms loosely over her chest. </p><p>“Do you like disobeying orders, Commander Burnham? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like a pattern of behavior.”</p><p>If that landed, Kat couldn’t tell. Michael’s face never moved. Kat was working on overdrive trying to figure out if it was Vulcan stoicism or shock. </p><p>Kat continued, “Why is it that when Captain Pike ordered you to open the airlock, to make the hard choice, you froze?”</p><p>“I was trying to find another way!” Michael swallowed hard. Kat heard the desperation in her voice. The guilt. She didn’t press the button, but she failed Airiam anyway.</p><p>Kat clasped her hands together on the desk and stared at Michael. “What if Commander Nhan hadn’t recovered? If she hadn’t done what you failed to do—what you refused to do?”</p><p>“Control would have the sphere data. Airiam would be alive, but then we might all be dead.”</p><p>“Is that an acceptable outcome, Commander?” Katrina pushed. She needed Michael to accept her own actions and move forward. Dwelling on this mistake, on the fallacy that she could have created another outcome, would hamper her the next time she had to make an impossible decision.</p><p>“No, Sir.” Kat thought she heard the smallest break in her voice. </p><p>“And are you ready to accept your punishment and move forward?”</p><p>Michael tilted her chin up again, almost imperceptible. Looking into Kat’s eyes, she said, “Yes, Sir.”</p><p>Katrina rounded the desk and perched on the edge.</p><p>“Do you trust me, Michael?”</p><p>“As my commanding officer, chain of command dictates—"</p><p>Katrina placed her finger over Michael’s lips, then moved her hand to grip her shoulder.</p><p>“Look at me, Michael.”</p><p>Michael complied.</p><p>“If you trust me,” Katrina squeezed her shoulder, “I want you to accept your punishment, here and now. If you don’t trust me, I want you to return to your quarters and wait for my orders.”</p><p>Katrina released Michael’s shoulder and crossed her arms, waiting for a decision. She hoped Michael would stay, and she wasn’t disappointed.</p><p>She rounded Michael’s chair. “Stand up,” Katrina commanded, bearing down on Michael with the full force of her rank. “Place your palms flat on the desk. Do not turn around. Do not look at me. Unzip your trousers and push them to your ankles.” Katrina softened her tone when Michael complied. “Good. Bend over.” Michael followed her orders easily and without hesitation. Katrina thought it was in part because she lived to follow orders and in part because she desperately wanted to be punished for Airiam’s death—no matter how illogical that burden was. Michael was tense, wound up like she was ready for a mission. Softer still, Katrina continued, “Relax, Commander, take five deep breaths.”</p><p>Michael’s chest and shoulders heaved with each intake. Her black underwear was simple—utilitarian. Her strong thighs reminded Katrina of herself at Michael’s age. Katrina rubbed her hands together slowly, warming them up. She stretched her fingers back, the anticipation threatening to overwhelm her.</p><p>“You will count each blow aloud.”</p><p>Katrina heard Michael take another deep breath before saying, “Yes, Sir.”</p><p>It had been too long since Katrina was able to give out this kind of care. Maybe Emperor Georgiou was rubbing off on her. She watched Michael absorb her blows, open palm against firm ass. The sound reverberating in her ears.</p><p>“Six.” Michael dutifully noted.</p><p>Katrina continued with more force, staying on Michael’s left side for the next three blows.</p><p>“Nine,” Michael’s breathing was deliberate, enduring.</p><p>Katrina delivered the final blow, and then gently rubbed Michael’s ass, dulling the sting.</p><p>“You did so well, Michael. I appreciate your impulse to try and save Airiam. To leave no fellow officer behind. But sometimes it’s the only way. We all must make sacrifices.”</p><p>Katrina indulged her own impulse and ran her hand up Michael’s back, resting it gently around her neck. She leaned in to whisper in her ear.</p><p>“When you sit down tomorrow, you’ll be reminded of this. Of how you failed. And of how you won’t make the same mistake again. When the pain fades, you will cease thinking about this.”</p><p>Kristina stepped away.</p><p>“Is that understood, Commander?”</p><p>“Understood.”</p><p>“You’re dismissed. Thank you, Commander,” Katrina said, with all the warmth she could infuse into her voice.</p><p>Michael slowly straightened and fixed her uniform. She walked out of Katrina’s quarters without looking back.</p><p>Katrina needed a drink. </p><p>Somehow, they were past the war, and yet everything was still falling apart around her. The fate of all sentient life on the brink. Kat was used to using her psychology background, it was second nature at this point, woven into how she led, inseparable from duty and Starfleet principals. But between Chris and Hugh and Michael, her tank was empty. What she needed now was a little caretaking of her own. </p><p>“Computer, open a direct line to Philippa Georgiou.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://glassesofjustice.dreamwidth.org/13145.html">Ladies Bingo 2020 Prompt:</a> Warning Signs.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>